


Shadows

by Peanutbutterer



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbutterer/pseuds/Peanutbutterer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>K/D tag to 4x23, "Parley"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

He’s so wrapped up in his own jumbled thoughts that he doesn’t see her until he’s just a few feet away - too late to turn back and find safer ground. Not that he could. Not that he _would_.

A single street light flickers above him as he slips into the driver’s seat of his car. The slight click of the door latching shut echoes impossibly loud in the stillness of the empty parking lot. Her silhouette is familiar beside him, her hair falling in a dark curtain and obscuring her face. The tension pooling in the pit of his stomach overflows into the car, momentarily filling the empty space between them.

He drops his head back against his seat, allowing her presence to comfort him. Regardless of what she’s come to say, she’s come to say _something_ , to do _something_ and he can’t help but feel a sense of relief. 

He lets the silence settle, lets her find the words in her own time. When she does, her voice is soft.

“I lied.”

He nods. “I know. You have two Twinkies in your bottom left desk drawer.”

She lifts her head to scowl at him. “Not about that. Well, yes about that, too. How did you know?”

“I cleaned your desk, remember?”

“Including the inside of my drawers?” She sighs and shakes her head. “We have personal boundary issues.”

“Says the woman who broke into my car.”

“I said ‘we’ didn’t I?”

“Touché.”

She scrubs a hand over her face. “I lied earlier when I said I was good. I’m not good.”

He thinks about telling her that he isn’t either - that he hasn’t been good for months, not since Granger pulled him aside and threw him into this mess in the first place - but the words stick in his throat.

“I mean,” she continues, hands flailing in front of her like they’ll somehow make her point more clear, “I should be good. I realize that rationally everything is good; it just doesn’t feel...”

“Good?” he guesses.

The corner of her mouth turns up in a smile. “Something like that.”

He turns his head to face her without lifting it from the seat. “You knew I was involved in something. This isn’t brand new information.”

She nods. “I know that.”

“But you’re still acting like I kept it from you.”

She meets his gaze. “You _did_.”

“Only the specifics. Only...”

“Her.”

“Yeah, her.” And probably, he admits to himself, that’s the reason he kept any details from Kensi at all. If it had been any other type of surveillance, if it had been him sitting beside a dumpster three hours a week, he probably would have spilled eventually. He spent almost five months with this thing slowly spiraling out of his control and the shadow of it looming darker every day. It didn’t help that things with he and Kensi were snowballing too.

She looks down at her lap and picks at a piece of lint on her jeans. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly, Kens.”

“It feels like it. It feels stupid and irrational and embarrassing.”

“It shouldn’t,” he insists, reaching over to still her restless hands. There’s a lot that they both do that are all of those things, but in this case, he’s pretty sure it’s something entirely different.

“But we’re not -” she cuts herself off with a shake of her head. “You’re not -”

“Yours.”

She looks down at their hands, watching them for a moment before slipping out of his grasp. “You’re not mine.”

He pulls his hand back into his lap. “I know.”

“I should be good,” she insists, voice soft, eyes focused on something in the distance. “I know that. You’re being professional and I’m being -”

“Human.”

She turns to face him then. “Will you stop finishing my sentences?”

“Only when I’m sure you’re going to end them the right way on your own.”

“I was out of line today. I made a lot of bad decisions. I reacted emotionally and jeopardized the mission. I jeopardized your safety,” she says, the anger directed at him only moments ago now quickly turning inward.

“While that may be partially true, to be fair, I don’t think my safety was ever in question.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “Small comfort.”

“Ouch.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know you were a little emotional, yes, and you pulled some crap you probably wouldn’t have if this had been a joint operation,” he concedes. “But I also know you’d never put me in danger - you’d never put the team in danger. Underneath all the crazy and that sprinkling of powdered sugar there’s still a badass federal agent.”

“Do you think being an ass will make me feel better about myself?”

“It’s the best I could come up with on the fly.”

She shakes her head and sighs, dropping her head back in a mirror of his earlier position. “When did things get this far out of hand? When did we blur the line?”

He looks down at the keys in his hand, wrapping his fingers around them and letting the cool metal dig into his palm. “Probably a lot longer ago than we’d care to admit.”

“Are we spiraling out of control?”

He shrugs, afraid to give voice to the answer. He’s been asking himself that very question for a while now - wondering if the decisions he makes are the same now as they would have been three years ago, wondering if he makes them for the right reasons. He’s not sure he even knows what the right reasons are anymore.

“God, I wonder what the team thinks of me - what, oh god, what Hetty thinks of me.”

“I’m fairly certain Callen and Sam still like you a whole lot more than they like me. And as for Hetty? She’s probably more understanding than you think.”

Her brow furrows and for a moment he thinks she’ll be able to read him, to reach inside his head and pull out the information he’s tucked carefully inside. She doesn’t, though, and he’s thankful for that. One hurdle at a time.

She turns and looks out the window to where her car sits a few spots away. “I should go.”

“Yeah,” he says, when he really means stay. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.” She flashes him what’s supposed to be a mischievous smile, but the light doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Vance called me and mentioned something about a super sexy guy who’s got -”

He groans. “Too soon.”

“Too soon,” she agrees with a nod.

“Night, partner.”

“Night, Deeks.”

She slips out the door and into the flickering light. He watches as she walks toward her car, his keys digging into his palm as he wonders how much longer this dam between them will hold and what he’s going to do when it finally bursts.


End file.
